


Full Circle

by cgf_kat



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek 2009, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:58:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cgf_kat/pseuds/cgf_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Vulcan society back on its feet, Spock Prime wonders if he has finally outlived his usefulness. Missing those he cared for, too, even with their doubles alive and well in the new past, is becoming too difficult a burden to bear. Young Jim Kirk knows something is wrong with his friend, but he doesn't know what, or how serious it is, or how to fix it. Will he realize in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

The grounds of the New Vulcan Science Academy, Jim Kirk thought, were beautiful even by human standards. He didn't really know how they compared to the old academy, though; he had only seen a few pictures that had survived.

He regretted, now, that he had never been to Vulcan before its destruction. It would have been nice to be able to remember something more of the planet than the brief glimpses he got while hurtling toward its surface with Sulu. It had been home, after all, to his first officer, and after four years serving together—not to mention everything they had been through together in the beginning—Spock was now the closest friend he had besides Bones.

It was certainly different, having a Vulcan for such a close friend. It wasn't anything Jim had ever pictured for his future as a juvenile and then not-so-juvenile delinquent in Iowa, just as back then he'd never pictured himself the captain of a starship, either. Much less the flagship of Starfleet.

Yet here he was. Four years later. It was the dedication of the New Vulcan Science Academy that brought the Enterprise to the new Vulcan homeworld this trip, and of course the ceremony was much…different, than any similar ceremony on Earth would have been. The Vulcans still held on to their rituals, and he didn't blame them—certainly not now, with the loss of their world. He was glad to be here.

But he really, really hated dress uniforms. The collar was too tight and the whole thing felt too stiff, and why the hell was his _green_? His normal uniform was yellow, and everyone else had a dress uniform the same color as their usual one, so why the hell was the captain's dress uniform _green_? It wasn't even a nice green. He supposed the idea of differentiation between the captain and everyone else made some kind of sense, but wasn't the gold braiding enough? And why _green_? Seriously.

Jim knew his mind was wandering, and he tried to get it back on track, and it really was a very nice ceremony—if more than little strange—and it was a nice place and everything else, but it just didn't seem quite right. The proceedings didn't seem complete without the man that Jim knew had put in just as much (and likely more) effort as anyone here.

Well…he was here. Jim knew he wouldn't miss this for anything, but he also knew the old man would be hiding at the edge of the crowds, drawing as little attention to himself as possible. He had been instrumental in everything from finding this planet for the Vulcans to rebuilding the academy and everything else here…Vulcan society itself. But he only wanted results. Not recognition.

He had his reasons for that, of course. Only Jim, Spock, Montgomery Scott and his small green saurian friend knew what the largest of them was—the fact that he was, in fact, not of this universe, but of another future that now would not be in this timeline.

That he was, in truth, a much older version of Spock himself.

Still, the ceremony seemed off to Jim. He wondered if anyone else felt the same way. After all, even if the Vulcans didn't know who the elder Spock really was, they all knew him now. Or of him. They knew everything he had and was doing for them, and simply accepted that he did not care to be recognized.

Jim wondered if any of them were suspicious, or if they didn't give it any thought. Vulcan was a large planet before it's destruction, with more than six billion inhabitants; it was certainly possible that they all thought this Vulcan who was doing so much in the rebuilding efforts was simply someone they had never known before the planet's death. A species that numerous, and there were those that shared names just as with any other species.

Then again, Vulcans were rather…well, smart.

But Jim had never heard of anyone commenting on or whispering about the fact that the old Vulcan carried the same name as Sarek's son.

Apparently, if they suspected anything it didn't matter to them.

Eventually, the ceremony was over. Jim caught a glimpse or two of his older friend at the fringes where he'd expected to see him, but didn't try to track him down there. He beamed back up to the Enterprise with his first offer and the rest of the diplomatic landing party and planned to visit the elder Spock at his home before they left orbit. His first officer would be beaming back down as well, to visit his father.

Both of them wanted to change first.

He caught Spock tugging at his own collar once they materialized, and Jim was already pulling his open. "Hate these things just as much as the rest of us, eh, Spock?" he smirked.

The Vulcan immediately stopped and dropped his arms.

"I would not use such a word, however the design quality of this uniform in regards to ease of movement _is_ of a much lower quality than our standard uniforms."

"So you agree that they're awful."

Spock gave him a blank stare that Jim had learned, over time, to translate as exasperation.

"Sorry. Chess once we're out of orbit in a few hours?"

"That would be agreeable."

With that Spock left the transporter room, and Jim shook his head to himself and retreated to his quarters. Once he'd changed out of that blasted dress tunic he went to his computer to call down to the surface. Before he could give the personal computer an order, though, there was the dinging of an incoming call.

Jim sat down at his desk and accepted the call, and the caller turned out to be just who he'd been trying to contact anyway.

"Hey, there you are. I was just about to see if you were home yet."

"Yes, I have been here for several minutes. Transporters are quite useful, in that way," the old Vulcan deadpanned in response.

Jim still wasn't used to the completely straight-faced jokes from the elder Spock, when the younger version he saw on his ship every day still wouldn't have made any kind of joke to save his life. Maybe his first officer was emotionally comfortable enough with himself to have a relationship with a human woman, but beyond that he was still the same old Spock.

"Yeah, you're hilarious."

The Vulcan on Jim's screen raised an eyebrow. "I see no reason to insult me, Jim; I merely provided an answer."

"To a rhetorical statement, sure." Jim shook his head. "Anyway, what's up?"

"I am sure that you had planned to pay a visit to me here before leaving orbit, however, I was curious if it would be permitted for me to visit you on board ship, instead."

Now both of Jim's eyebrows were up. "Are you kidding? You're always welcome here, Spock. I've been trying to get you to come aboard for years."

He'd offered, many times in the past, to give his old friend a tour of this Enterprise. The Vulcan had always declined, and Jim somewhat understood. Despite the differences there were bound to be between this Enterprise and the one the elder Spock remembered, it still might be painful for him.

Jim knew Spock felt. The mind meld shortly after they met four years ago told him that—told him that clearly. That knowledge was much of what made it possible for him to read the younger Spock's non-expressions. It was how he knew both of them so well. Granted, now he knew them because he had been close to both of them for several years, but the meld had given him a jumpstart. Given _them_ a jumpstart—particularly Jim and his first officer. They'd very nearly hated each other in the beginning, but the meld had put a stop to that, sent them in the right direction, even if the younger Spock wasn't aware of that fact at all.

Often Jim wondered if that had been part of the elder Spock's intention in the first place.

Spock nodded now, in thanks, and they arranged a time. It wasn't far off, and soon enough Jim was back in the transporter room waiting for his friend.

He gave the old Vulcan the tour of the ship he'd always wanted to give him, though thanks to the similarities it was almost as if Spock were giving _him_ the tour. Jim didn't have to say much—only something here and there about the bits of technology and layout that were slightly different from the original Enterprise in Spock's timeline.

Really it wasn't a tour at all. They walked the ship, and Jim could almost see the memories replaying in his old friend's mind.

"Is it hard? To be here?" Jim asked gently. They stood alone on the observation deck; most of the crew was preparing for their departure from the planet.

It was a long time before Spock responded at all, and when he did he nodded, very slowly. "It is not easy. That much is certain."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked so often in the past. If you didn't really want to come, you—"

"You are not at fault in any way, Jim. I chose to come here, and I am not sorry for it. There was a perfectly logical reason."

"That reason being what?"

Spock hesitated. "Perhaps not entirely logical…"

Jim chuckled a little. "Okay, fine. What?"

That almost-smile that both Spocks had down so well. They should really have it patented; it wouldn't look right on anyone else.

"It hadn't seemed prudent to some here before. It would have served no purpose, and…you are right. I presumed that it would not be an easy thing to do. Now…I suppose I thought that to see the Enterprise one last time might not be so disagreeable an experience after all. And I was correct."

"You really are just a sentimental old fool, aren't you?" Jim smiled.

"I do not know about sentimental, but I _am_ an old man and in my lengthy life I have often been a fool."

"Close enough."

Spock didn't disagree with him.

* * *

_Five Months, Three Days Ago_

"You know, this really doesn't make any sense."

"What does not?"

Jim sat back in his chair, a steaming mug in hand, and he wasn't really watching the broadcast on the small vidscreen across the main room. The volume was low, and most of it was probably news he was aware of anyway. Starship captains were privy to a lot of news before the general public was.

"I don't know. All of this. That I'm even here. I guess if you'd known me before I enlisted you'd know what I mean."

"Are you perhaps becoming reflective at the old age of twenty-nine, Captain Kirk?"

"What? I don't know…"

"Starship captain or not, please remove your feet from my table."

Jim laughed and put his sock-clad feet back on the ground. _He_ would have called the low triangular table in front of him an oddly-shaped coffee table, but Vulcans didn't drink coffee. "Sorry."

His old Vulcan friend settled in the chair beside him and turned in his direction. "Thank you. Now. What subject were you attempting to broach?"

"I have no idea. As often as I'm here now, it almost seems _more_ absurd as time goes on, not less. The way I was when I enlisted I figured I'd be spending leaves looking for a good pleasure planet or doing anything else just as stupid. Yet here I am, spending most of my shore leave for the past four years sitting around with an old Vulcan from an alternate universe. Sometimes I wonder where the hell _that_ came from."

Jim smiled and sipped at the hot drink in his hand, and as much as he loved coffee and couldn't live without it, this wasn't coffee. No, it was Vulcan spice tea, which he'd developed quite a taste for since he began coming here—here being nothing more than a small apartment in an unassuming building in an unassuming sector of the capitol city of the new Vulcan homeworld. It wasn't much, but it was the elder Spock's home.

He'd been offered something much nicer, of course, much closer to the center of the city, but he preferred simplicity. He preferred to be out of the way.

Both Jim _and_ his first officer had spent most of their shore leave on this planet since the colony was established. The younger Spock went home to his father—often with Uhura tagging along—and Jim came here. Sometimes he and Bones spent their leave together, instead, knocking about, for something different to do, but Bones had a daughter to visit so more often than not Jim was here.

The guest room was tiny, almost an afterthought, and this was a Vulcan world, so there wasn't much to do in the way of what a human would call entertainment. Jim didn't care about any of that. It was the closest thing he had to a home, away from the Enterprise. He certainly didn't have anyone or anywhere to go back to on Earth, that was for sure.

"It isn't so strange as you think. Your counterpart was also quite the…'ladies man,' as I believe the saying goes, and was rather adventurous, but he had a great appreciation for peace and quiet, as well. I did not know him until he was a bit older than you are now, so I do not know if the latter was a quality he had from the beginning or if he developed that appreciation in reaction to the stresses of being a starship captain. Whatever the truth, it is only logical that you would develop the same appreciation now that you are in that same position."

"Huh…makes sense, I guess. I feel better now. Would've hated to think I was losing my touch."

There went the eyebrow. "Indeed."

Jim shrugged. "What about you? You may be like 180 or whatever, but you're a Vulcan. You could be around another two or three decades or four decades, easy. Gotta live in this timeline anyway…you could meet somebody here."

Spock was already shaking his head. "Any relationship I was going to have I have had, Jim, and while decades more are possible, they are not necessary. I have lived quite a full life, even for a Vulcan. I am…content."

It all sounded entirely truthful. Until that last word. Jim's eyes narrowed a bit. "Are you?"

Both eyebrows were up now. "I do not lie."

"Well _that's_ bull."

Spock just looked at him, and Jim sighed. It took a him a minute or two to decide where he wanted to go with this. "You never told me if you were, you know…married or whatever. In your timeline. Did you leave anyone behind?" he asked quietly.

At first Spock just looked at him, as if he wasn't sure whether or not he would answer. Then he nodded once. "Yes…a wife. Saavik. We did not often share a dwelling—in fact, in the 45 years we were husband and wife before I was pulled into this timeline we rarely saw each other. I spent 25 of those years living on Romulus, working toward Reunification."

"Saavik. A Vulcan woman, then?"

"Half Vulcan, like myself, though her other half was Romulan and not human. Also like myself, she chose early to live as a Vulcan. We had…much in common."

"You loved her."

Spock didn't directly answer the question. "Many did not understand, how we could spend much of our time away from one another. Even other Vulcans did not see the logic in it—marrying when doing so would not change much else in our respective lives. They did not understand that we each cared enough to allow the other to carry on with what was important to them. We both had important tasks to fulfill—things that were larger than us."

Jim just nodded, trying to understand, but he had the sinking feeling that there was unspoken regret in what his old friend was saying, no matter what he actually said.

Suddenly Jim had another horrible feeling. "Oh…no, has she been born yet here? If she was, did she—?"

Spock shook his head sadly. "No…she did not survive the destruction of Vulcan. The course of her life was also changed by the disrupted timeline. She was able to enter Starfleet much earlier here than in the world from which I came. She was a cadet at the academy when the Narada attacked…she was aboard one of the largely cadet-crewed ships that were destroyed above Vulcan."

"Oh god…oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I should just shut up…"

Spock was quiet. They both were, for a long time.

"I'm sorry," Jim said again, after a while.

"You have no reason to be. Your questions were born of concern."

Jim let out a breath. "Yeah…" He sat back and returned to his tea. "So I guess we're both kind of alone."

"You are not. You have your friends aboard the Enterprise."

"Yeah, and they're great. I don't think I've ever been as happy as I am now, but I don't have a _family_. Unless I count you. But _you_ don't have to be without one, Spock, even here. If you would just tell Sarek who you are—"

"I do not wish to speak about that."

"Oh come on, Spock! He's your _father_."

"And I have made what peace it was possible for me to make with the memory of my father, in my own universe," the old Vulcan answered in as sharp a tone as Jim as ever heard from him. "It would be selfish and illogical of me to intrude in this one. Spock and Sarek have the chance to become closer here than my father and I ever were, and from what you have told me they are taking it. I do not wish to interfere."

Jim set down his mug now and leaned forward intently. "That's ridiculous. It wouldn't be interfering. Sarek lost his _wife_ , remember? Your mother. His son is all he has now. He'd probably be _thrilled_ to have more than one instead. Or…well, you know what I mean. Not thrilled. Whatever the hell a Vulcan would be."

But Spock refused to say anything more on the subject, and that was that. He was very good at pretending, after that, that there had never been an argument. Jim wasn't so good at that. At least not at forgetting about it.

Nothing was any different than usual the rest of the time Jim was there, but he still went back to the Enterprise after that shore leave concerned about his friend. Really nothing about any of those conversations that day seemed quite right.

* * *

_Now_

It had been months. Jim had been worried for a while, but nothing had happened that made his undirected concerns make any sense. The elder Spock continued to work with those leading the efforts to rebuild Vulcan society, the New Vulcan Science Academy neared completion, and his old friend's messages came with the same regularity as they always had.

It seemed nothing was wrong. Jim had tried to forget about the more worrisome parts of the conversations they'd had that day on his shore leave.

But now the worries were back, and they wouldn't leave him alone.

_…while decades more are possible, they are not necessary…_

_I have made what peace it was possible for me to make…_

… _to see the Enterprise one last time…_

Hours after the older version of his first officer had beamed back to down to the colony, he and Spock sat in the Vulcan's quarters in the middle of a chess game.

Jim was losing badly. He couldn't concentrate.

"Jim? Is something wrong? Your game is considerably weak tonight."

Kirk shrugged and tried to focus on the 3D chess set. "I don't know. It's probably nothing. Uhm…you know old you came up to the ship before we left orbit, right?"

"I was aware, yes."

The two Spocks had not entirely avoided each other these past four years; Spock had told Jim that his elder self had pointed out that it would be impractical and illogical. So they didn't avoid or ignore each other. Still, they stayed out of each other's way when they could. Jim supposed it was just easier that way. It was probably awkward for them when they _were_ around each other. So while Spock had been aware that his older self was aboard, it made sense that he hadn't made an appearance.

"Okay, well, something seemed…off about him today. Not just today. Something seemed off the last time we were on shore leave, too. I thought I was imagining it a few months ago, but now I'm not so sure."

"I do not understand what you mean by 'off.' Perhaps you should explain."

"It's _hard_ to explain. He was just…quiet, I guess. I mean, that's not unusual for either of you, but I mean more than usual. And both today and a few months ago he kept saying things like…well, things that worried me. I told you I didn't know if I could really explain…"

… _while decades more are possible, they are not necessary…_

_I have made what peace it was possible for me to make…_

… _to see the Enterprise one last time…_

"Never mind," Jim said. Spock agreed that it was probably nothing, and the game went on. Jim was still losing, but he didn't care anymore.

No matter what his first officer told him he couldn't stop worrying over it.

… _while decades more are possible, they are not necessary…_

… _to see the Enterprise one last time…_

… _not necessary…_

… _one last time…_

Before the elder Spock beamed down…when he spread his fingers in the Vulcan salute and gave Jim the same wish he always did…live long and prosper…

When he said it he smiled. A real smile. Not something that could have been mistaken for anything else. A real, warm smile. It had been small, but very real, and there had been something is his eyes. An emotion. A strong one. Jim couldn't put a finger on it, but it had all startled Jim so thoroughly he hadn't moved until the beam and his friend were almost gone.

_One last time._

"Damnit!" Jim dropped the piece in his hand and shoved to his feet so violently the entire chess toppled over.

"Captain?"

"I have to use your computer." He swung the computer station at the edge of the desk around and punched in the orders for a call. They were less than an hour out from the planet at standard warp; he should still be able to reach the colony on subspace. He ordered up the personal computer link for the elder's Spock's apartment, and waited anxiously for the call to be answered.

"Come on, damn you!"

There was no answer.

"Jim?"

Jim all but launched himself across the room at the intercom button, trying to remember who had the con. "Kirk to bridge."

"Sulu here."

"Sulu, turn us around. Get us back to the planet, maximum warp."

"Aye, sir."

At maximum warp they could be back in fifteen minutes or so.

"Captain, may I ask why—?"

"Because I know what's wrong, Spock! Or I think I know. I sure as hell hope I'm wrong, but I don't think I am. Damnit!"

He was out the door in an instant, racing for the transporter room. He couldn't wait for the ship to drop out of warp to get there. The moment it did he would be on the pad, coordinates locked, ready to beam down.

"Jim? Jim!"

Spock ran after him, and Kirk wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy running and spewing a constant string of expletives.

"Should I beam down with you, perhaps?" his first officer asked when he reached the transporter room.

"No. I'm going alone. Just…god, just…tell Bones he might have an emergency on his hands and not to shoot me for freaking him out if I'm wrong, ok?"

"Very well…"

And Jim was pretty sure Spock looked rather concerned himself just now. The captain ignored it for the moment, called up to the bridge again to let them know he was beaming down as soon as they were out of warp, and they gave him an ETA. Three minutes. Jim hurried up onto the transporter pad.

"Those coordinates locked in, chief?"

"Aye, sir," the transporter operator assured him.

Jim nodded, and as a last thought he came down from the pad again and took a phaser from the transporter room's small stock. Spock raised an eyebrow at him.

"Better safe than sorry, right?"

The eyebrow was still up, but the Vulcan nodded in assent to the logic.

"Thirty seconds, sir," the transporter chief alerted him.

Jim stood straighter on the pad and pinned his first officer in his gaze. "Hold down the fort, Mr. Spock. With any luck I'm wrong, I won't be gone long and we should be able to make up lost time with increased speed for a few hours. Either way, I'll take responsibility with Command for any delays."

"Understood, sir." Spock paused. "Jim…"

He didn't have to go any farther for Jim to know he understood. Spock hoped Kirk was wrong, too.

"Thanks," Jim said quietly, just as the transporter beam took him.

* * *

It was logical. He had done all he could for this new Vulcan society, and it no longer had need of him. It had been logical for him to be here while he could do good, and while there was always good to be done somewhere in the galaxy there were no longer things to be done here that only a select few could truly see through.

Now, the Vulcan people were stable once more. There was still progress to be made, but they were resilient. They were Vulcans. There was no reason for an old man who could actually cause harm if he wasn't careful to make a nuisance of himself. There would always be the chance that he could damage the timeline further, Spock knew. But four years ago, with the remaining Vulcans scattered and broken and homeless, there had been too many reasons to stay.

Those reasons were now gone.

He didn't regret his decision. No, there were enough other things for him to regret: The death of Jim's son to save him. Not spending enough time with Saavik. The fact that, in his own timeline, with the Romulans irate and distressed over the loss of their own planet, the idea of Reunification was now likely quite moot; the movement was more than likely dead, and he would never know anyhow. That he had not spoken with his father again before Sarek's death. Not saying things to Jim and the others that he should have, Vulcan or not.

He didn't regret this choice. It was logical. It would ensure that this new timeline remained safe as it was, for what it was. These people, these versions of his friends and their universe, would go on without interference just as his own universe went on without him.

He had a small recorder, which had been on his person when Nero captured his ship. He always kept it on his person. It was the only thing of his own, from his own universe, that he had left. It was twenty-fourth century technology, no larger than a small stone. No one knew of it; not even this Jim Kirk, his one real friend here. When he returned from the Enterprise Spock sat in a chair in the main room of his small dwelling, where he had often sat with the young captain when Jim came to see him, and triggered the playback.

The recorder could project modestly-sized holograms for any video it contained, and it contained a few, but they were mostly audio clips—things scavenged from messages and such over the many years of his life. A short video from a birthday party for his mother, messages from her and from Sarek and from Jim and his other close friends. A short video from his wedding to Saavik that Doctor McCoy had managed to take secretly despite strict Vulcan ritual edicts against such things; Spock had only been received the video after Leonard's death, in a package of things the doctor had left him.

His life, in a small device. Jim was right; he _was_ a sentimental old fool, wasn't he? Well. His Jim would be proud; Doctor McCoy would have teased him. The corners of his mouth ticked up at that thought.

There were one or two messages from the Jim Kirk in this universe, and he listened to those just before the ones from his own Jim, which he saved for last. He had already said goodbye once more to his mother and to his father and to his other friends. Jim…

It would be harder. It had been extremely difficult to step onto the Enterprise's transporter pad not long ago at all.

He hoped this Jim would forgive him, though he shouldn't ever know that anything amiss had happened anyhow. There would be just enough time to drop the hypospray that he had prepared down the disposal in the bathroom. It would be naught but atoms in milliseconds, and its effects, upon examination, would appear to be quite natural.

Doctor McCoy would have been proud of him for the medical ingenuity, though that would have been moot with the doctor berating him for the very idea in the first place. He would probably insensate with rage over it.

It had to be this way. Any other Vulcan would understand. The logic was sound, and under such circumstances—especially with the time continuum here in possible jeopardy—his actions would be acceptable. More than acceptable. But Jim would not understand. So he planned his actions the way he had.

There was nothing else to be done. His goodbyes and non-goodbyes had been made, and for the same reasons he should not stay he could not allow his katra to be saved here. Its knowledge could not be had here. And there was another Spock in this universe, as it was. _His_ katra would someday rest in the new temple where it should be—the Spock who belonged in this universe.

He listened to Jim's messages again, and wondered if there really was an afterlife. He had never believed in one as a young man, but now he sincerely hoped that one existed.

It would be his only chance to see Jim again. He hoped it didn't matter in what universe he died. He hoped they would be reunited anyhow.

Spock realized he believed they would be…and that he had believed it for some time now. Somehow, he didn't think something as important as they had—no matter how unexplainable it was—could end with death.

 _We'll miss you at the christening, though I'm not even really sure why I'M going,_ Jim's voice said from the small device in his hand. _The whole thing seems a little ridiculous to me, but Scotty and Pavel will be there. Anyway, don't think I haven't gotten your messages. I'd say I've been busy, but that's not really true—stupid stunts like orbital skydiving, sure, but not busy in the purest work sense of the word. I'm retired, after all._

_I know you're worried—and don't give me that I'm-a-Vulcan bull, either. I know you too well, Spock. YOU'RE busy, off with that new ambassador job of yours, but you still take the time to send messages all the way back to Earth to ask how I am because you've heard what I've been up to lately? You wouldn't do that if you weren't concerned. Well…I guess you should be. I'M concerned. I…I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I've tried to retire too many times…it's not working any better this time than any other time no matter what I tell myself. * sigh *_

_So fine. You called it. Bones called it. You all called it. So I'll go to that christening tomorrow. The new Enterprise…huh…and then what? Go back to Starfleet AGAIN? Try a desk job again? Yeah, right. Maybe I'll track you down out there. Can ambassadors have long-term visitors? Probably not, and that's what I'd be. God knows I wouldn't be in any hurry to get back Earth._

_Anyway…I'm sorry, Spock. This is all rather emotional, isn't it? Probably not something you want to listen to. I guess it's easier to talk to someone who's not here, and it's always been easier to talk to you than anyone else anyway. Put the two together and I'm a veritable babbling brook._

_Just…do me a favor and come by Earth when you can, will you? Find me, if I don't find you. Is that too much to ask?_

The message ended, and Spock put the recorder back into his pocket. _No,_ he thought. _It is not too much to ask. Not for you._ The part of him that hoped for something more after all of this hoped that was what he was about to do.

Find Jim. His Jim.

* * *

Jim couldn't beam directly into the apartment—there were security measures anywhere for such things—but the transporter dropped him as close as he and the transporter chief had been able to pinpoint. He materialized on the curb in front of the building, and he shot inside and into the turbolift as soon as his legs would move.

"Come on come on come on…"

The lift wasn't fast enough for him. Neither was the sprint he managed from the turbolift to the correct door down the corridor.

Of course the door was locked. He pressed the call button frantically and it only gave him an error sound, as it would if no one were home or if they were but didn't want to be disturbed. But Spock had to be here. It was the middle of the night outside, and where else would he be? He didn't go out. He isolated himself as much as he could outside of his duties—supposedly for the good of the timeline, though Jim didn't quite buy that.

He tried the emergency override, but nothing. That had been jammed too.

"Are you kidding? Damnit."

Now he was glad for the phaser. He didn't care how many alarms he was going to set off; he aimed at the locking mechanism and fired.

The door opened. There were no alarms, either. Either they'd also been disabled, or this building wasn't exactly finished yet.

Whatever.

"Spock!"

The front room was empty. The vidscreen was off but the computer was on, flashing with the missed message signal. His attempted call. But though Jim could just see the flashing from where he was standing just inside the door, the computer was for the most part turn away from the sitting area. Purposefully ignored.

There was a knot in his stomach now, and it was tightening by the moment.

"Spock! Where are you? Spock! Spock!"

He moved past the main room, and the small kitchen was empty too. The hallway was dark, the doors to the bedrooms closed. The only light came from under the bathroom door.

"Spock!" Jim didn't think. He burst through the door, and he tripped over the form in the floor. For a very painful split second he was afraid he was too late, but then he heard the clatter of the hypospray on the ground and the startled sound below him.

Jim didn't catch himself in time. He fell over his old friend sitting against the wall and landed on his backside against the base of the sonic shower cubicle. He shoved himself upright as quickly as he could, hoping now that he _had_ been in time. He thought maybe he had been. The hypospray was on the floor.

But it was half empty.

And Spock was now doubled over in pain.

"Damnit, Spock, what the hell is wrong with you!"

"The full dosage…would have been immediate…painless…" the old Vulcan gasped. Jim kicked the offending hypospray away and then thought better of it and picked it up. Bones was going to need that to figure out how to save his patient.

Spock was slipping—literally and figuratively—and Jim caught him and held him up. "God, oh god…"

"Jim…please understand. This—"

"Shut up! We have to get you back to the ship." He pulled his communicator out, but before he could open it his old friend went limp in his arms and there was suddenly even more weight than a moment before. "No you don't!" Oh god, now he couldn't see straight. Damn tears, he did _not_ need this now.

He opened the communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise! Two to beam directly to sickbay from my location, now!"

The small bathroom dissolved, and sickbay formed around him. Bones was ready with a medical team, as he'd told his first officer to see to.

"What the hell, Jim…? Who is—"

The orderlies moving in on them took the elder Spock's weight, allowing Jim to jump to his feet and shove the half-used hypospray into McCoy's hands. "No time now! He tried to use that; I don't know what it is, but I don't think he has much time if you don't do something. You _have_ to do something, Bones. Save him. You _have_ to save him."

Bones only nodded and went to work. He was a doctor, as he liked to remind people; it was what he did. Jim had never been more grateful more it.

Jim staggered away from the center of the action, letting the medical staff do what they were best at. He didn't expect to run into anyone.

"Jim…"

Everything was kind of…blurry. But he knew it was Spock, his Spock, his first officer, who was holding him up now. Bracing him.

"The doctor and his staff will do everything they can, Jim. You're aware of that. Come with me; you should sit." And Spock dragged him into one of the medical offices and sat him down, and took another chair himself. He was just there, and Jim supposed that was what he needed right now.

Granted, maybe Spock wasn't entirely proficient at it in human terms, but he cared enough to do it. The Vulcan wasn't the type to sit there and hold him, and that would have been a little strange anyway. But he was there, and even when Jim couldn't keep himself from crying anymore, Spock didn't leave.

* * *

It seemed an eternity before McCoy came back, and Jim was on the edge of his seat by then. "Well?"

Bones let out a breath and dropped into the edge of the desk in the office. "He's stable. He'll live."

"There's a 'but' in there somewhere."

"He's fine for now. And after all that work I'd like to know who the hell my patient _is_ before I get into the details."

Jim exchanged a glance with his first officer. An indifferent raised eyebrow and a slight nod told the captain Spock didn't mind, but Jim was a bit too emotionally exhausted at the moment to explain. He was leaned over the desk's surface himself, and a 'this is all yours if you want it' gesture invited Spock to at least start off on that.

"Well?" McCoy was demanding.

"Your patient is…me, doctor," the Vulcan began,

"Excuse me?"

"Your patient and I share the same name and DNA," Spock elaborated. "He originated in the future of a timeline alternate to ours."

Bones was staring.

"He came through the same black hole or wormhole or whatever that the Narada did. He was trying to stop them," Jim added tiredly. "I found him on Delta Vega after this one marooned me there." He motioned to his first officer, and then out toward the main sections of sickbay to emphasize the next sentence. "It's thanks to him Scotty and I were able to beam back onto the ship while it was at warp."

"Are you telling me you've known him and who he really is for going on four years and you never said anything to me?"

"He insisted the fewer people who knew who he really was, the better. It's not my fault, Bones. Me and Scotty and little green guy knew cause we were kind of, you know, there, and it just seemed kind of stupid not to tell Spock once it was all over and done with…but that's it. Nobody else knows. You weren't the only one left out, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, I just—Jim, out there that's—isn't he the one that _found_ the planet where the Vulcans settled?"

"Yeah, and he's done a whole lot more than that," Jim fumed. "For the Vulcan people, for me…you know where I go for shore leave when you and I don't find something to do? I spend it at his place! Which is why I don't understand _why_ he—god! This is so stupid!"

"Jim, you must remember that he is a Vulcan," Spock said calmly. "Beyond that, he is a version of myself. I know that he would never have considered doing something of this consequence without a logical reason."

"What the hell kind of logical reason could there be for trying to off himself!"

"Perhaps you should ask him rather than making premature judgments."

Bones sighed. "Look, Jim, I hate to agree with the green-blooded hobgoblin over there, and I would be reacting the same way you are in your position…but Spock is right."

The captain rubbed at his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I just really _hate_ it when he's right." He was sure his first officer had an indignant eyebrow up behind him, and when he glanced back he found that was true. "No offense, Spock."

"None is taken."

A nurse appeared in the office doorway then. "Doctor, he's awake."

Jim was on his feet in an instant, and Bones had to physically grab his arm and pull him back. "Jim, wait. That's not all of it."

"What do you mean that's not all of it? You said he was fine."

"For now, yes, but…listen, what he used would have killed him almost instantly if he'd gotten the entire dose. It would have looked like a heart attack. Now, we managed to counteract what he did get soon enough to save him, but there's been some damage to his heart. If it isn't repaired, he probably just cut what's left of his life in half or more. It _can_ be repaired, but he'd have to agree to surgery."

Jim swallowed in an attempt to push his heart down out of his throat. "So? It can be repaired."

"You don't know yet why he did this in the first place. He might not agree to the repairs."

"He will. I'll make sure he does; he has to."

"Jim…"

Spock was out of his seat now too at this news, and thought he hadn't said anything yet Jim knew if he didn't get away from them now they would _both_ be all over him trying to make him understand the possibilities and accept them and all of that ridiculous crap.

He couldn't handle that right now.

"Thanks, Bones, I'll keep that in mind." Then he jerked away and hurried after the nurse.

The elder Spock didn't see him immediately when he came in. Though the upper half of the biobed was on an incline he was still staring at the ceiling more than anything else.

Jim stopped two or three feet from the bed and cleared his throat, because he didn't know what in the world he was supposed to say.

Spock lowered his gaze to focus on the captain.

"So you want to explain yourself?" Jim questioned finally.

The old Vulcan let out a long breath. "Jim…I am sorry, that you arrived when you did. You were not meant to know—"  
"Well guess what?" Jim snapped. "I would have known anyway, no matter how well you covered it up. I _knew_ something was wrong; it's why I came back in the first place. So why don't we get back to you explaining why you thought this could ever be okay?"

"I have known for quite some time that it would be better for me to remove myself from this universe once I had done all I realistically could to help it. The Vulcan people are now well on their way to being self-sustaining again, to a new life. My work is done. Now…it would be safer for the integrity of the timeline if I were not in it. I have seen too much, Jim; I have been a part of too much. There is too much danger in my remaining here."

"Okay, sure, maybe you're not entirely wrong about that, but I think it's crap that that's all of it."

"It is. A logical decision, logically arrived at."

"Bullshit."

Spock frowned, and Jim was frustrated already.

"Jim, please do not think it was an easy decision. But it was necessary."

"You can say that all you want; you're never going to get another crack at it. I will throw you in the brig and haul you around the galaxy with us if I have to, but you're not finishing the job."

Spock just looked at him for a moment. "You become more and more like the James Kirk I knew every day, I think. You are already just as stubborn, certainly. Why must you interfere in a life that is not your own?"

"Because that life _affects_ my own!"

And Jim thought maybe the old Vulcan actually looked somewhat startled at that, but he didn't answer. "Whatever. I can't do this right now."

He left sickbay, and he didn't look back.

* * *

Jim did not understand, just as he had anticipated.

However, being in a position to know that for certain also meant that he was now in a position in which he needed to do something about it.

That he had _not_ anticipated.

He did expect it, however, when his younger counterpart was the next to visit him. The first officer stood with hands clasped loosely behind his back, quiet, and he stopped a bit farther away from the bedside than Jim had.

"He did not understand." It wasn't a question.

"No," Spock agreed from his bed. "He did not."

"He did not say much before he left sickbay—quite angrily, I must add—but I believe I gathered that your reasoning involved preserving the integrity of our timeline, as I had suspected. Yes?"

"Yes."

"I see...logical, of course…but it was foolish to underestimate him."

Spock huffed quietly, in the closest he would allow himself to outwardly come to amusement. "I'm afraid it was. Underestimating James Kirk—any James Kirk—is something that no one should ever make the mistake of doing."

His young counterpart only raised an eyebrow and nodded in sincere agreement.

* * *

Doctor McCoy was just as stubborn himself as had been his original in Spock's own universe. Still, once he had explained the Vulcan's situation to him after further tests he had no choice but to submit to the logic that there was nothing else he could do, medically, until and unless Spock submitted to surgery. He had not, and the doctor was convinced, reluctantly, to release him from sickbay.

His younger counterpart expressed surprise that he had been able to accomplish such a thing so quickly. Spock had to remember that the younger version of himself had not yet had as much practice. Though it helped, too, that now he was not part of Starfleet and the doctor could not give him an order.

Spock found Jim on the observation deck they had visited less than twelve hours ago, though now he found _himself_ to be the one without an idea of what to say. So he joined his young friend where he stood, staring out at the stars and the orange curve of the new Vulcan homeworld below.

"I'm not stupid, you know," Jim said finally.

"I never implied that you were, nor have I ever thought that."

"You implied I couldn't understand your logic on this, at least, and you're wrong about that. I know where you're coming from. I just think letting that be the only thing you considered was wrong."

"Jim, _you_ are the only other factor in my life in this universe that bore considering. That is why I intended to do this the way I did. I did not want to leave you with the burden of believing that I had taken my own life. I know that for humans, no matter the logic, it is not considered acceptable. I respected that."

The captain turned to look at him sharply. "Well did you ever think that maybe I don't want you gone at all?"

"I knew that my death would cause you pain, and I deeply regretted it. I regret your pain even now. But there was no way for that to be avoided. Even if I had not come to this decision, Jim, I am an old man. It will happen. I will die. There are far, far fewer years ahead for me than there are behind whether I was to interfere with the natural progression of time or not."

"Yeah, and now you've got even less because of this stupid stunt of yours unless you let Bones or one of the surgeons down there repair the damage to your heart. You know about _that_ now, I assume."

Spock nodded once. "I do."

Jim looked at him incredulously. "You're really not going to let anyone fix it, are you?"

"The point would be rather moot."

"Not to _me_!"

"Jim, what must I say to make you understand that it is simply…my time?" The young human was visibly trying to calm himself, and it was painful to watch.

Jim shook his head forcefully. "Nothing. There's nothing you can say, Spock. I am never going to understand why you think you get to decide that. My father didn't get to decide, my mother didn't, yours didn't, no one I've lost since I took command of this ship got to decide that…your Jim Kirk didn't either, if you remember telling me what happened to him. We _don't_ get to decide that. It isn't right."

Spock opened his mouth to respond—something else about that being the human interpretation—but he thought better of it. It seemed such a cold thing to say, and while he would have thought nothing of that when he was the age this Jim Kirk was now, he didn't want to sound that way anymore.

Jim had moved on, anyhow.

"How long?" he was asking now.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're the actual patient; did Bones give you any better of an idea of…of how long you…you know…have? With the…damage…"

"Yes," Spock answered quietly. "He insisted on more testing once I was conscious, before he released me from sickbay. He now believes that if the damage is not repaired I will not live more than perhaps three to four standard years."

There was a strangled sound from Jim at that, and he kicked the viewport wall in front of him.

"Jim…?"

"That's worse than what he told me before," the young captain hissed angrily.

"I am sorry, Jim…"

"Then fix it! Just let Bones fix it. Or one of the Vulcan doctors; I don't _care_. But just…let them fix it. Would living here another couple of decades or more really be so bad?"

Spock didn't know how to answer that question. He found himself pushing a hand discretely into his pocket, searching for the recorder. He had to admit to himself that sometimes he took comfort in just holding onto it, just in knowing it was there. As if he could draw strength from his Jim and from his father and from his other long-gone friends just from their messages.

It was quite illogical, but he had long since accepted that.

It wasn't there. It wasn't where it was supposed to be.

He didn't hear anything else Jim said. He calmly searched the few other pockets and places in his clothing where he might have placed the small device, but he still did not find it.

"I am sorry, Jim, I-I must…return to sickbay…I seem to have misplaced something…" Jim was looking at him very strangely, but Spock simply did not care at the moment.

"What…?"

"I am sorry. I will return—"

"It's all right…uhm, I'll…I'll go with you…"

Spock only managed a nod before he turned and went as quickly as his tired body would carry him back the way he had come.

* * *

Jim followed the elder Spock back to sickbay completely at a loss, even more confused by the fact that the Vulcan picked up the pace as they drew closer. It seemed like a very human thing to do, as if he really was rather concerned about whatever it was he couldn't find.

"Spock?"

The old Vulcan stopped just inside the main sickbay doors. "Where, precisely, did we beam in?"

"What? Oh, uhm…" Jim shrugged and walked past him to the approximate place. "About here, I think." Not that he _wanted_ to remember that particular moment in his life very well.

Spock just nodded and began to search the floor.

"What are you looking for?"

He didn't answer, but he started to stoop down to look under things Jim caught his arm and kept him up on his feet.

"Hold on, hey, just tell me what you're looking for and I'll help; I can do the getting down on the floor stuff. Just tell me what I'm looking for." Not that the old Vulcan was anywhere near feeble—he was actually quite spry for his age—but Jim was feeling a bit understandably overprotective at the moment.

Spock let out a breath. "It is…a small round device, slightly smaller than a type 1 phaser. Black and gray. The technology will seem somewhat unfamiliar; it is from closer to the time period from which I came."

Jim nodded and started to look under things—equipment banks, biobeds, cabinets—anywhere something that small could have been accidently kicked or something. Spock looked around and behind things and wherever else there was to look. After about five minutes McCoy ran across them and wanted to know what the hell they were doing.

"What does it look like, Bones? We're looking for something." He motioned to the older Spock. "He lost something he uh…what, you had it on you when we beamed up? In a pocket or something?" A nod. "So yeah," he finished to the doctor.

McCoy just stood there looking confused for a little while, and then he sighed a bit dramatically. "Well are you going to tell me what we're looking for or leave me standing here like a damn idiot?"

Jim smiled and relayed what Spock had told him, and then it was the three of them. Spock, though, had still not actually said anything else; he was far too preoccupied. When they'd searched where they were inside and out Bones, as the only one who knew where else the elder Vulcan had been during his treatment, led them to the right treatment room.

Nothing. After about half an hour or more, total, it began to look hopeless. The only thing keeping Jim and McCoy going was the furrowed look on Spock's face and the feeling of urgency in the way he moved. He wasn't saying so, but they could sense easily that whatever they were looking for, it was important to him.

That became even more clear when they all paused in the short passage between the main ward and the treatment rooms, every option seemingly exhausted, and the elder Spock was suddenly doubled over with a fist to his chest and trouble breathing.

"Whoa—!" Jim said. He helped Bones catch him, and together they helped him back into the treatment room and put him in a chair. "Bones, what is it! Is it his heart? What—?"

The doctor had already found a tricorder, and he was shaking his head. "No, no not like that. It's just—"

"I am fine," Spock said quietly. "I am all right. I'm sorry…I didn't mean to alarm you. There was some pain for a moment, but it is gone now."

Jim exchanged a glanced with McCoy and then crouched by the chair to look his old friend in the eyes. "Spock…what are we looking for? What's so important?" Were his eyes damp?

Spock almost smiled. "Messages in a bottle…voices from the past. It is only a small recorder, only a storage unit Jim, and yet…" Any trace of amusement or wistfulness abruptly disappeared and the old Vulcan's eyes closed, and his head ducked, and his face was crumpled in pain. "The thought that it may be lost…"

He understood. "Your Jim. Your wife. Your parents."

Spock's eyes opened, and he nodded once. "Yes," he whispered.

Jim glanced back at McCoy, and the doctor was swallowing.

"Wait," McCoy said. He cleared his throat. "Wait, uh…I've got an idea." He was gone quickly, and Jim heard rustling and moving and maybe a little bit of crashing from out there somewhere…the instrument drawers. Bones was looking through the instrument drawers.

There was a muffled aha-like sound, and then McCoy was back.

"Okay, I have no idea what the hell this is; it was in my drawers. Is this it?"

He held something out, something that looked remarkably much like a smooth stone, and Spock was already on his feet.

"Yes…yes, thank you…"

"I thought somebody might have found it and put it away with the other instruments not knowing what it was. It was a long shot, but I should have thought of it sooner, I'm sorry."

"No, that's quite all right, doctor." He took the offered device and held it close to his chest. He turned away from both of them and Jim, relieved, sidled up next to McCoy.

"Thanks, Bones…" He knew about Vulcan hearing. He knew Spock could hear them no matter how much he dropped his voice, so rather than telling Bones to go on for now he used his head motioned toward the door, and McCoy seemed to get it.

"You're welcome," he said. "Glad I could help…uhm, anyhow, I've got paperwork to do. Let me know if you need anything." Then the doctor left again.

When Jim walked around to face Spock, to see if he was all right, he'd quite expected to see the small round device still clutched in his old friend's hands as it was.

What he hadn't expected to see were the drying tears on the Spock's face.

"Spock? Are you all right?" He realized it came out sounding more panicked than anything else, and Spock gave him that almost-smile at his over-reaction.

"It is only emotion, Jim. It is not deadly."

Jim blinked and swallowed, and tried to make a joke in return. "Sure, try to tell thirty-something you that."

Spock just shook his head and calmly dried his face with a sleeve. "I am sorry, Jim. It seems I have caused you nothing but trouble and worry as of late. I did not mean for it to be that way."

"I know…"

The silence hung heavy after that, Spock still holding onto the recorder in his hands, staring mostly at the floor, maybe thinking. As Jim studied him the rest of what he'd begun to realize minutes ago clicked into place.

"You're lonely here."

Spock looked up, he cocked that matter-of-fact eyebrow, but otherwise he seemed so tired. "Yes, Jim," he admitted. "Other than the times that you come to stay with me…I suppose that I am."

"I knew it wasn't only logic. I knew that couldn't be all it was; I know you too well. You're not like that. You're not…a computer. Even when you used to act like one, you weren't. You never were. I've been in your head; I know it." Jim twisted and found the chair and sat in it because he needed to sit or his head would explode. "I'm an idiot. I am. I am a complete and utter asshole…"

"You are none of those things. You are young."

"Yeah…but you're not off the hook, you know. I already knew there had to be something else…and the fact that it's this makes sense, but trying to—it was _not the right way to deal with it_ , Spock. It just wasn't."

But his old friend gave no affirmative or denial, and Jim huffed quietly and stood again. "Okay…look, I may take most of my leaves, but I usually leave a few days off of them so I have enough for whatever if I need it…I've got what I've saved up on top of standard emergency leave. I've got plenty of time. I can take some of it and come back with you for a while."

"That will not be necessary—"

"I don't care. You're stuck with me."

Both eyebrows went up for a moment, but then they were down again and Spock sighed. "Very well."

* * *

His first officer caught him on his way to the transporter room the next day. The elder Spock was still in sickbay, sitting through Doctor McCoy's lecture over the medications and such he would need to take now if he were not going to agree to surgery. Jim was sure he would end up going home with a healthy supply of anything he needed already in tow, sent with him by Bones.

He knew that for sure because Bones had already given _him_ quite a bit of all of it to hide away in his own bag in case the old Vulcan refused to take any of it from the doctor himself.

"Come to see me off?"

"Something of that nature." Spock pulled him to the side of the corridor.

"What is it?"

"I need to speak with you."

"About what?"

Spock pinned him with a serious gaze. "You should allow him to make his own decisions."

Jim scowled. "Not this. Not right now, okay?"

"Jim, I don't wish to cause you any more distress, but you must hear this. If you truly care for him as you would for a family member, and if you respect who he is…his Vulcan heritage, as you respect mine, then you must trust him to make these decisions for himself."

"Last time I left him to do that he tried to kill himself."

"He tried to do the right thing."

"That's your opinion."

"And his."

"He admitted to me himself that that wasn't all of it!"

Spock inclined his head. "Perhaps not. Even I am not certain that I could make such a decision solely based on logic…I am, after all, half human. As he is. However, whatever else contributed—no matter how large a thing a human might consider it to be—if it was anything at all emotional you can be certain that the logic was still the key deciding factor."

Jim leaned into the wall tiredly. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I know what it is to be Vulcan. You have known me for quite some time now, Jim, and you once melded with my elder counterpart. You should understand as well, on some level." Spock paused before he continued. "It is not the absence of emotion. It is the control of it—it is not allowing it to at all contribute to one's actions."

"So…what?" Jim asked, rubbing at his forehead. He was starting to get a headache. "Are you saying...even though there were emotions there, even if he…you know, displays them a little more than most Vulcans would…what? You're saying he used them to feel okay about his decision, but not to _make_ the decision?"

"Precisely. It is the only logical explanation."

"Yeah, well, _none_ of this seems very logical to me so you'll excuse me if I take that with a grain of salt."

His first officer nodded in understanding. "Of course."

Jim sighed heavily. "And I don't know how I feel about that anyway. I don't know if I'd feel better if the decision had been an emotional one or if that would only make it worse."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I believe the correct response, if I were human, would be to remind you that whatever transpires while you are gone…I am your friend. I will be here when you return, and I do not plan to relocate at any time in the foreseeable future."

Jim laughed a little at that. "Yeah…yeah that's not bad, actually." He clapped his Vulcan friend lightly on the shoulder before he turned to enter the transporter room. "Thanks, Spock. Take care of the ship."

The elder Spock arrived several minutes later with a small medical satchel that he had accepted from Doctor McCoy, and that made Jim feel a little better, too. Spock, however, didn't say anything about it, and they beamed down in silence.

* * *

Things were much more awkward than usual, being there, for the first couple of days, even though they didn't talk about why they were there. Or maybe it was _because_ they didn't talk about it. It seemed as if both of them wanted to pretend, at least for a little while, that nothing had changed. That it was any other shore leave, any other visit.

It wasn't really working. On top of that Jim couldn't help himself from making sure that Spock took the medications for his heart when he was supposed to take them, and it really ruined the entire shaky illusion.

The third day, sitting in the main room with their tea with the vidscreen on the background as it usually was, what was left of the illusion broke when Jim got up, turned it off, and sat down again.

"So what are we even doing? Why am I here?"

"You are the one who insisted on coming."

"And you let me."

Spock took a deep breath. "Jim…I can promise you nothing."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he snapped. "That'd I'd better keep an eye on you 'cause the second I leave the planet you might try again?"

The old Vulcan shook his head. "No…nothing of that sort. I would not do that; not now. I still believe the logic stands, but I wouldn't cause you that pain."

Jim set his cup down and stood, pacing. "So I do matter, then," he huffed.

Spock blinked at him incredulously. "Of course you do, Jim. I have told you that in the past—more than once only in the last several days, in fact."

"I know, and I believe you, and from your point of view you've acted like it, but…" He trailed off and his jaw clenched briefly. "I know how young I am from your point of view. But I understand more than you think. Once I realized…look, I _know_ it's probably…selfish, to want you to just stay here forever. I know it couldn't be forever even if you wanted to be here that long."

Jim shook his head his head to clear it. "I lost my father sixty seconds after I was _born_ , Spock. You're…the closest thing I have to one. Don't I have the right to at least _ask_ you to be here for a while longer? I—"

His voice dropped to a whisper whether he wanted it to or not, and he wasn't looking at the Vulcan anymore. "I need you."

Spock stood up and came to him, slowly, his hands clasped in front of him. It had always struck Jim as telling, the difference between that and the way the young Spock, his first officer, clasped his hands behind him instead when he stood—behind him and away from whomever he was facing. It seemed to illustrate the fact that, though this Spock, the elder one, was still Vulcan, he was still more open than his younger counterpart.

Oh certainly Jim's first officer was less rigid than this Spock had been as a young man—the changed timeline and the things that had happened here had seen to that—but it wasn't the same as the relative ease with and acceptance of his emotions that the elder Spock had come to in his old age. He was who he was. Even if he still chose to live as a Vulcan, he was also human and he knew it and he was at peace with it.

Somehow Jim understood all of that much more clearly in that moment.

His old friend stood before him and unclasped his hands. He took Jim's arms and looked at him for an agonizingly long moment.

"I will promise then, at the least, that I will not interfere again in the natural progression of my life. And I will willingly comply with any treatment or medication regimen that Doctor McCoy or any physician here sees fit to institute to care for the damage that has already been done."

Jim swallowed. "But no surgery." There was no answer. "So a compromise."

The old Vulcan nodded once. "That is all that I can offer you now," he said quietly.

Jim nodded weakly, silent because there was a lump in his throat. It was better than nothing, but he couldn't look at his friend right now.

He almost tripped when he felt himself being tugged gently forward, because he didn't at all expect it. He made a small sound of surprise and then Spock was hugging him. His head found the taller Vulcan's shoulder, and Jim tightly returned the embrace before he could further compute the fact that this wasn't exactly normal for any Spock.

Maybe his old friend just knew he needed it. He wasn't about to argue.

* * *

The promise seemed to settle Jim's spirit to some extent, and Spock was relieved at that.

It had never been easy, to see his own Jim in any sort of pain. With this Jim, this young man who had already lost so much at such a young age, it was harder. His feelings for the Jim Kirk he had known were only multiplied by the paternal feelings he had for his young counterpart.

Jim was right to make that analogy. Spock felt the same.

After that it was easier. After that all really did seem as it was before, for the most part. Once or twice they even ventured from the apartment. Jim coaxed him out, telling him that it made no sense for him to help build this world and not venture often out into it unless he had to.

He was right, though Spock had secluded himself for logic's sake. For the safety of this universe. But to venture out a bit more than usual, to make Jim happy, could not hurt.

"I once heard that Vulcan had some of the greatest libraries in the quadrant. They were bigger than _this_?"

"Yes…much larger. Many of them."

Jim turned in place as he took in the monstrous building around him. "How is there even _this_ much left?"

"Some of these books and scrolls were on ships that escaped the planet, but much of what is here resided in other Vulcan colonies until recently. Many of those smaller colonies that had been established before Vulcan's destruction have now relocated here. They brought what they had with them."

"Almost makes me wish I could read Vulcan," Jim smiled.

"There are Standard translations of most of these books—not in physical form, of course, but the library computers on the Enterprise—"

"Yeah…I just prefer real books."

"Yes. I know," Spock answered. Jim, who was still smiling at him, would have called it a wistful tone if he were in the mood to tease.

But not all was so easy. Though Jim smiled during the day, his door was always closed tightly at night. Spock did not mean to overhear, but the muffled sounds that often drifted into the hallway anyway were unmistakable.

Spock stood against the wall by Jim's door on one of those nights, the small recorder in his hands, and he closed his eyes and he wondered if he were doing the right thing.

_Oh Jim, what am I to do? This boy, he has your face, and he is not you but he IS, and either way I do care for him. I don't wish to hurt him but I continue to. Even now he cries, and he thinks I cannot hear. How can I deprive him of another father? It will happen, in a mere two or three years, or four. It isn't enough to him. I know that it isn't. Yet how can I stay any longer and risk harming this universe? To do that would harm not only him, but countless others._

He could almost hear his Jim's answer, see it delivered through that cocky smile. _But what are the chances of that, Spock? I know you. You're careful. You could probably live here the hundred and thirty years until the time you left and still never do anything that would do this timeline any harm. But if you stay you KNOW he'll he thankful that you did. You know he needs you. I needed you, didn't I? And you know you could make a difference in his life. That's what we always tried to do, wasn't it? Make a difference?_

_But…Jim…I miss you. I miss…everything. Saavik. The Enterprise. My students on Romulus…most of whom, I suppose, are now dead._

_You're still going to die someday. Everybody does. I did. I'm sure not going anywhere._

But he still didn't know.

Spock blinked and turned to the door beside him. He gathered himself and he rang the door chime.

There was movement inside, until a voice finally told him he could come in.

The light had come on inside, and Jim was sitting on the edge of the bed though he surely had been in it moments before. It was quite late.

"Hey…" Jim said. "What's up?"

Spock went to the bed instead of the desk chair, and he sat on its edge beside his young friend. He still held the small message player in his hands. "To meld with you once more would be easier, but…I believe it would mean more to you if I were to share this with you rather than that," he said, holding up the round device. "That, and…I am coming to realize again that to care about someone…to maintain relationships, to put others ahead of oneself as is only right…none of this is easy. It is all necessary, and good, but not always easy. Perhaps I had forgotten."

Jim shifted to face him. "You're right," he said quietly. "But I also know I was wrong before—at least to be so selfish. I mean, I will never be able to say it's fine, you can just go right now if you want; I still don't think that's right. But what's done is done and if you don't want the surgery then that's your choice to make. And I'll be okay, I get it. We made that compromise. It's over. I'll be fine, I just…it's hard. Just knowing you were old…everybody dies. That wasn't all that hard. It's just…now, knowing for sure how little time you have left…it's different. I just have to adjust, okay? You don't have to worry about me."

"Oh but I do, Jim. I always will. That is what it is to be _me_." His eyebrows went up in a somewhat bewildered expression. "Though you are, I must admit, far more matured than I often give you credit for."

That Jim smirked at, just a little. "That's me. Full of surprises, I guess."

"Indeed."

* * *

Spock, as promised, showed him much of what was on the small recording device. He saw a piece of the elder Vulcan's wedding, and saw and heard messages that reminded him very much of what happened on board the Enterprise every day—Bones berating Spock for working too hard, an older version of himself teasing his Vulcan friend, and other things.

He understood better now, how Spock could have reasoned away his decision with logic. Not that it wasn't good logic; it was only the way he'd used it that wasn't right, Jim thought. But he understood how he could have made that mistake. He understood the pain he must have felt. This Spock had so much more to miss than Jim did yet. So many more memories, so much more time with his friends and loved ones, and all of it was over now.

Well…not all of it. Not if Jim had anything to say about that.

"You know, Bones knows who you are now. Maybe I'll drag him here for shore leave or a holiday some time. Scotty too."

"I believe I would like that."

"And maybe we could, you know…at least tell Sulu and Chekov and Uhura…"

"We will see."

Jim still stayed for a while longer after that. He knew he should get back to the ship, but he didn't want to leave. Three or four years wasn't no time at all, but it was short enough, and though he knew he would be back soon enough when the time for real shore leave came around again shortly, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving yet.

Spock didn't seem to mind. They did plenty of what they always did. They sat and they talked and Jim laughed and Spock had that almost-smile. They also went back to the library more than once. They went to the market. Spock taught him how to prepare the Vulcan tea on his own and gave him a supply of it and the other things he needed for it to take back to the Enterprise with him.

They went other places, and did other things, and though before any of this had happened their relationship had seemed impossibly easy, it somehow seemed even easier now. Despite the heaviness that hung in the back of Jim's mind and heart. Maybe it was because they understood each other better now than they ever had before.

The night they stood out on Spock's balcony and watched the stars, the night Jim was finally considering arranging transport back to his ship, everything changed.

"I will have the surgery."

There was no preamble, and they had both been quiet for a long time when the old Vulcan said it.

Jim started and nearly choked on the lump that immediately introduced itself into his throat. "W-what? You're serious?"

"Yes, Jim."

He remembered that the last thing Spock had played for him was the last message his Jim Kirk had left him. _Just…do me a favor and come by Earth when you can, will you? Find me, if I don't find you. Is that too much to ask?_ it ended. That, really, was what had made Jim decided not to beg anymore—that had made him decide that he had to be okay, because he couldn't hold Spock here. Not when he was waiting to fulfill a promise.

Spock hadn't said anything about it then, and hadn't since, but Jim understood it on his own.

Jim studied his old friend closely. "But I thought you wanted to find him," he said softly. "You…you don't have to have the surgery if you don't want to. I'll…I'll be okay with what time we do have. I get it now. I really do."

"I want to." Spock's almost-smile was a little more smile than usual just now. "And I _have_ found him, Jim. I kept my promise. He lives, in you…I should have understood that before. And if there is anything after this and he is waiting for me with my mother and my father… my wife and others…then that will still happen. In time."

Jim almost couldn't get anything else out, and he was just aware that he was relying heavily on the railing for support. "You're sure?"

That nod he was so familiar with. "I am certain." The old Vulcan shrugged a bit, and though Jim's vision was beginning to blur he could still make out the humor in his friend's eyes. "I have spent the better part of my life as friend and brother to one James Kirk. I could do much worse than to see out its end as father to another."

Jim's laugh bordered on the hysterical at first, because he was still trying to believe he wasn't imagining this conversation. Then he was crying at the same time, and he knew it was real.

'Thank you," he managed.

And the elder Spock put an arm around his shoulders and held onto him while he cried.

* * *

Spock knew that Jim needed to return to his ship, but he also knew that the young captain would be uneasy doing so if he went before Spock's surgery had been completed and was successful. So he wasted no time, asking Jim to accompany him to the medical center the next morning.

There were fewer doctors now, of course, but also fewer patients. At times the balance ran low, but there were always young people being trained, and soon enough there would be a new generation.

It would be a generation that would never know Vulcan—never see their race's home planet—and though the Vulcan people were making a new home here it seemed such a sadness all the same. Spock could still take solace, at least, in the fact that the timeline he came from continued on unhindered.

Vulcan existed there. His mother had lived a full life there.

In any case, due to the no-nonsense nature of Vulcan society and medicine, it was easy enough to schedule the needed procedure. Doctor McCoy had sent along copies of the records he'd kept on his patient for the two days that Spock had been on the Enterprise, and that simplified matters as well. There was a cursory examination to confirm the recorded data, and he was given a time to report back to the center the next day.

"That's it?" Jim marveled as they left. "They know everything they need to know now and they can do this _tomorrow_?"

"They _are_ Vulcan physicians, Jim. They do not waste time with posturing and double and triple-checking facts that they are already certain of, and Doctor McCoy keeps flawless records besides. Nor is emotion a factor for them, of course, which also expedites matters. They are certain of their skills, and logically so. They do not need any more time to prepare than is absolutely necessary."

"If you say so. I guess I don't care as long as they do it right."

"I will be fine, Jim," Spock assured him gently.

He slowed to a stop in the street a moment later as something else occurred to him at the scent of cooked food wafting from a nearby establishment. "Would you care to dine somewhere other than from the replicator in my apartment for the midday meal? We are out anyhow, and I suppose the occasion deserves some degree of celebration. Now would be the appropriate time; after the procedure my variety of food intake may be limited for some days."

"Yeah, sure. Good idea."

Jim was smiling in that way that told him he was doing something right. There was a pang in his chest that had nothing to do with the damage there as the expression reminded him of those first years serving under his own James T Kirk. While both Jim and the doctor teased him for his social ineptitude among humans, Jim had also taken pains to let Spock know when he'd done something correctly.

It did not help that this Jim was getting older. He would soon turn thirty, and his face was just beginning to fill out a bit. He looked more and more every day like the man Spock had met more than a century ago.

But he did not regret this decision. No, he was quite content with it. Indeed, the more he considered it the more he looked forward to being here in the coming years—to watching this Jim Kirk and the others under his command grow into the people they were meant to be.

They were already off to quite a good start.

* * *

Jim stayed long enough to see his old friend recovered well from surgery, though Spock had assured him only the second day after that he was quite all right.

"They just let you come home; you're insane if you think I'm leaving now."

"I did not think that you would, but I would have been remiss not to let you know that the option was there."

"Shut up and get back in bed," Jim smirked. "What can I replicate for you?"

Spock made some good-natured comment about how _his_ Jim could cook.

"Hey, I made captain ten years before yours. When did I have time to learn? You could always teach me, you know."

"Vulcan dishes, certainly. I suppose I will have to. Anything else, however, and I am afraid I am just as lacking in skills."

"Ha!"

Spock had been right; everything was just fine, and Jim had never felt more relieved or happy or at ease in his life. Almost even more than the day he'd taken command of the Enterprise, he couldn't wait for the years ahead.

But there was one more thing he couldn't leave without seeing to, and while they were at the table in the kitchen on one of his last mornings he started to try to. It ended up being quite a roundabout way of it, but anyhow…

"Hey, you're going to get back into, you know, the kind of stuff you were doing the first few years you were here, right? Back to being, you know, involved. Now I _know_ you were lonely; cat's out of the bag, Spock. You need to do _something_. Maybe it's me being kind of selfish again to say this, but I'd feel better if you did. I don't want you to feel like that anymore—isolated. It doesn't have to be that way. You're not gonna damage any timeline."

His old friend nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. I suppose you are right." He paused. "The High Council has recently extended another invitation to me to be one of them. That is something that would not have happened at all in my own universe—many of them did not approve of my efforts towards Unification—and I would never have considered accepting if it had. However, it is different here. This Council…the events of this timeline have changed them. They are more open. Reasonable. Here, perhaps, I could do some good."

"Wait a second, wait—they asked you to join the _High Council_ and this isn't the first time? When was the first time? Why the hell didn't you say yes then?"

"The first time was shortly after the settling of the colony, for my role in locating the planet and other efforts and also the simple fact that I am, besides they themselves, one of the oldest surviving Vulcans remaining."

"But you _turned that down_?" The old Vulcan just looked at him, and it didn't take long for Jim to remember the past few weeks, wince to himself, and understand the answer. "Right…" he let out a breath. "So anyway…you think you might agree to join them now?"

"I have been contemplating it, and I believe it likely that I will. I would be serving the Vulcan people, in a universe where I might actually be able to make the sort of difference I attempted to make in my own."

"All in ways that don't give away anything you know about the future, of course," Jim grinned.

"Naturally."

Jim sat forward then, realizing that the direction Spock had brought them actually led straight to the subject he'd been struggling to bring up anyway. "Spock…Sarek is part of that council. If you joined it you'd see him, just about every day. You'd have to talk to him. No more hiding in the back of crowds."

Both of the Vulcan's eyebrows went up in what Jim could almost swear was the Spock equivalent of a 'duh' expression. "I am well aware of that."

"And? Won't that be difficult if you can't tell him who you are?"

Something flickered in Spock's expression—the pain Jim knew was there anyway. "Yes. It would be much more difficult if I did not tell him," he said more quietly.

Jim blinked in surprise. "You're going to tell him?" He'd been expecting to have to argue his old friend into it. Because he wasn't going to give up. He wanted Spock to be happy here. Or the Vulcan equivalent. Whatever.

"I am not entirely certain as of yet, however…in recent days I have thought about what you said to me six months ago, on your last visit here."

"That both you _and_ Sarek could use all the family you can get right now? Yeah, I don't know about you but _I_ think I'm right."

"I believe you may be."

* * *

Fourteen Months Later

It was a routine patrol. Starfleet, wisely, wanted to keep an eye on the parts of space where the Narada had originally come through from the future, where it had then been destroyed, and of course the place where Vulcan died. The singularities still remained—invisible and dangerous if safety was not heeded, but harmless if distance was kept. Either way, it made sense to keep watch. There always was, after all, the chance that something or someone else could come through.

In more than five years, nothing had happened at any of the three sites. Reasonably, Jim expected their run by the first site to be an uneventful break from the normal rush.

Then something came through.

It was like déjà vu, even though none of them had been there when the elder Spock's small ship had come through more than five years before. But Jim had seen the ship later, many of them had, and there was no mistake that the even smaller ship that emerged from the singularity like a bullet now was of a similar design.

"What the hell…" Jim breathed. He was already out of his chair, and Spock was at his side now. "What do you think?"

"It is not Romulan," his first officer observed. "If experience serves, it will be a Vulcan or at the very least a Federation pilot."

"Right…Lt. Uhura, open a channel."

"We're already being hailed, Captain."

"On screen then."

It took Jim a moment, to realize he recognized the face that appeared on the screen. An older Vulcan woman…where had he…?

"I am Saavik, daughter of Vulcan. I apologize if I have startled you; I come peacefully. I search…for…" She trailed off, and was staring rather unabashedly at Kirk's first officer.

Jim quickly quashed the shock—a skill a Starfleet captain had to perfect quickly—and grinned. "I think I know who you're looking for, ma'am."

The Vulcan woman's gaze shifted back to him. "You are James T. Kirk. Your ship is the Enterprise," she said, and she sounded slightly…awed, perhaps, for lack of a better word.

"Not the ones you remember," he told her. "It's a long story."

"The Narada. It altered your timeline. This is the past, but it is not the same."

Jim nodded. He should have expected her to deduce at least some of the truth right away; she was a Vulcan, after all. "That's the gist of it, yes."

"The…? Ah. A human expression. I am correct, then. I understand."

Jim almost laughed; she reminded him so much of _both_ Spocks. He could see why they would get along.

"Yes, you're correct. We welcome you to our…universe, for lack of a better word. If you'll bring your ship into our shuttle bay and come aboard we can arrange to get you where you need to go."

"Thank you. I would appreciate your assistance. However, I request that I be beamed aboard instead."

"Certainly, but why? Your ship—"

"Must be destroyed, Captain. I do not wish to do more damage to your timeline than may have already been done. Even my presence is less than…ideal, however..."

"It's all right. And yes, we'll beam you aboard as soon as you're ready."

"Thank you, Captain Kirk." And then Saavik—this woman that he had heard so much about, but never expected to meet—gave him a look that was very much like the almost-smile he was so used to from his two Vulcan friends. "And may I say, that it is pleasing to see you well." Her gaze roamed the bridge warmly. Jim wondered if it was coincidence that even Bones and Scotty were there, behind him somewhere, because they'd both given reports just before the singularity opened. "All of you."

But her eyes settled, finally, on Spock again, and Jim knew why, and he really wished he could stop grinning like an idiot.

This was going to be good.

* * *

Spock didn't know who would be chiming at his apartment door at this odd hour of the afternoon, but he certainly wasn't expecting to find Jim Kirk on his threshold. The Enterprise was not due to release its crew for shore leave again for nearly another two months.

"Jim. I had not expected to see you again so soon, but it is a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?" He stepped aside to allow his young friend inside, but Jim didn't move.

He was, however, smiling broadly. "Not much. We had a passenger to deliver here; last-minute thing. I didn't have time to get you a message I'd be by. I can't really stay right now, anyway."

"Ah, I understand. You are 'saying hi.'"

From what Spock had been told he sometimes made a strange expression when imitating human sayings, and he must have done so now because Jim chuckled.

"Yeah, pretty much. That, and I thought you'd want to see what we found patrolling the first singularity site last week."

He said it casually, gesturing behind him at the same moment. Spock didn't understand what the movement could possibly have to do with what his young friends was saying until it prompted the individual who had apparently been just out of site to step into the doorway with him.

At that point Spock was very gratified, indeed that he had agreed to the surgery to repair his heart fourteen months before.

If he had not he might very well have suffered cardiac arrest on the spot.

"Greetings, my husband."

"Saavik…" He could not have disguised the emotion in his voice if had wanted to. He risked a quick glance to Jim, wondering if when he looked back she would be gone. She wasn't. "I-I do not understand."

"It took time, to calculate where the singularity lead, to prepare to open a safe passageway through which a ship could travel, and then to receive proper authorization. Engineer LaForge was gracious enough to gift me with a small ship similar to the one he provided the Vulcan Science Academy to outfit for your mission to destroy the supernova." She paused. "I am told that it has been five years and three months since you arrived in this universe. For me it has been one month less than nine."

Jim leaned in the door then. "She came after you, Spock. What more explanation do you need?" His smile lit his eyes, and in them too was more than a small amount of I-told-you-so.

Spock lifted a hand, two fingers outstretched, and Saavik met them with her own. The burst of telepathic contact that accompanied the physical—the presence in his mind that he had missed—nearly brought tears to his eyes. His wife gazed up at him, and he knew she felt the same.

He looked up once more, at Jim, at the young man to whom he was friend and mentor and father, and he knew his life had been full here until now. It had been these past fourteen months, anyhow since he accepted it as it was and once more found his purpose. But he also knew that now it would be richer than even before, and he knew whom he had to thank for that.

He didn't have to voice the words, and he wouldn't have. Not with Saavik standing there with them as she was. Oh, she would know the truth; the struggle he had gone through—he could keep nothing from her, as his wife, and he would not—but now was not the time. "Thank you," then, was all he said, though he wanted to say so much more.

There would be the chance for that another time. For now Jim nodded in answer, and Spock knew he understood.

"Anyway, we'll be going," the young captain said. Spock realized now that his younger self was there as well, hanging back so as not to interrupt. "Take care of yourselves," Jim told them.

"Thank you, Captain." Saavik said. She looked at him for a moment to also nod her thanks, and Spock nodded a brief acknowledgement to his younger counterpart, but by now neither she nor Spock could be bothered to tear their eyes any longer from the other. Jim took the single suitcase that his first officer held and set it inside the apartment door, and then the two of them were gone.

Spock stepped back into the apartment and Saavik followed. The door slid closed behind them, and for quite a while they merely stood with their fingers meeting.

"It was illogical for you to come here, my wife," Spock said quietly, when he could speak. "You could not know for certain whether or not I was even alive."

"Many of the most worthy acts I have been witness to were quite illogical. It is a lesson that James T. Kirk taught us both. If it were not for one of those illogical acts you would not have lived to become my husband. I could do no less than he."

Spock could not help but nearly smile at that. "Indeed. We both have much to thank him for."

Though he was still who he was, and he was Vulcan, and it did not show outwardly, despite his years Spock felt much like the giddy boy he never was. Saavik was now nearly four years closer to his own age, and they were both very old, but it did not matter. The years remaining them unfolded before him, and here they had the chance for the life as husband and wife that they had never lived in their own universe.

Here, they had the chance to correct mistakes; to do it right, as Jim would say.

"My father will be pleased to meet you. He has heard much of you." Once he had revealed himself to Sarek it had become a point over which they understood each other well; both of them had lost a spouse. But Sarek would not begrudge him the return of his own. They were Vulcan, after all, and Sarek called him son.

They were close, now, much more so than Spock had ever been to the Sarek of his own universe. It pained him, but he was grateful for the relationship he had with Sarek here. Jim had been more than right; they both needed it, and it was more than keeping each other company while their respective charges were offworld.

It was family, which he now had more of again.

"It will be good to see Sarek alive and well," Saavik answered.

"It has been, for me." He swallowed. "And I am more than gratified that _you_ are here."

Saavik looked at him softly, almost a small smile on her face. "I have…missed you, as well."

By those admissions, and by what he sensed from her through their healing bond as their fingers remained joined, Spock knew then that he was free to do what he wanted to do.

He took his wife's face in his hands, and he kissed her.

 _Thank you, Jim._ And he was thanking them both, and yet it was really only thanking one man. For in any universe that was good Jim Kirk would be the man Spock knew him to be, and in any universe like that the two of them would be drawn to each other—would mean something to each other. It had already been proven at least twice, after all.


End file.
